Shine On
by gibrelina
Summary: Many things can be a turning point when you are a teenager and for James Potter it's his runaway friend showing up on his porch. Between confessions and old teacups they might just find the silver lining everyone's been looking for. Rated for Language


_Disclaimer_: If I owned Harry Potter, the Marauders would be alive and kicking.

_Warning_: Tons of cursing.

**Shine On**

_"The turning point in the process of growing up is when you discover the core of strength within you that survives all hurt." – _Max Lerner

James Potter opens one of his eyes and glances at the clock. Admittedly it is not late enough to be early, but it is definitely late enough for everyone else to be asleep. Take himself for example, he can easily sleep for another five hours; even if he did fall asleep lying on the couch of their living room while waiting for his mother to get back from work.

It may be her returning after all, because she always comes back when it's pretty dark outside, looking all tired and sleepy. Even though he planned on getting up and greeting her with a bear hug before, right now he doesn't feel like it. And if intentions are just as good as the ones who hold them, James is a despicable human being. He shifts on the couch and buries his head on the chintzy arm-rest with a groan.

A second later both of his eyes snap open. He hears the ruffling of leaves outsides, and the steps, but whoever is out there is not his mother. His mother knows how to enter the house, and it's _pouring _outside like the world is falling from its_ axis_, so there is no logical reason for someone not to come in. Ok, there is one. Death Eaters.

But the thought he is overreacting explodes inside his head like it always does when something terrible is about to happen or you are too sleepy to think straight. He grasps his wand and glasses and gets up. The world goes black for a few seconds and then he walks groggily to the door, curiosity taking the best of him. He tries to look menacing; only it's a hard thing to do when his hair is sticking up like a chicken's butt and he can smell his own morning breath- even though it's not even close to morning. The only thing he has on is a pair of _The Adventure of Martin Miggs, The Crazy Muggle _pajama bottoms that his mother gave him when he was thirteen, and now you can even see his legs sticking out from it, way more than they should.

He suddenly wishes fervently that the Death Eaters would lay off him for the time being. He doesn't want to die in too-short pants and yawning like a madman.

For all the excruciatingly long moments that lead to the opening of the door, it is quite astounding how he opens it quickly. It's not pleasant though. He wants to jump back and hide immediately, because the sound of the rain is even louder, and he is sure Bathilda Bagshot's hamsters are_ dying_, going down the drain _somewhere_, and that maybe if he blinks he will be able to see this large boat carrying a dozen of animals because the world is certainly going down.

Only he can't see a thing. The night is made of impenetrable darkness and the smell of wet earth; so familiar that it sounds pretty impossible that someone might be waiting outside to blow his brains off.

And now that he's looking at the situation up close, it's unbelievable Death Eaters would leave their burrows in the Apocalypse just to kill two old people and a lanky teenager. Maybe he is a little vain, but no one could accuse him of being_ that _conceited.

"Man, I'm drenched."

At first he thinks he is having an out of body experience, and not enjoying it _at all_. He knows the voice. He can recognize it even when it's mimicking other people, and Sirius has always been damn ace at mimicking people. James remembers sitting around the common room, laughing his head off because Sirius is looking at them with a scrunched up face, his brow furrowed and a stern look in his eyes. And you just know he is being McGonagall. Remus uses euphemisms, saying something about how Sirius can read people way better than Ms. Kramer can read palms and lifelines; but that's only until he starts laughing too, because Sirius is a dumbass, and he is always doing funny things.

Only now Sirius is at his porch at 2am and it isn't funny anymore.

He grins at James before crossing the threshold, and closing the door. James can tell it's not a real smile though; it has all the shades of yellow. "What are you doing here?"

He knows it's the wrong thing to say, but it's unable to stop himself. Trying to make up for it by giving his friend a gentle shove towards the couch he had previously been sleeping in. Sirius opens his mouth, but that's enough to make James cut him off, thinking he has it all figured out. "Have you been drinking?"

It is a lot like Sirius to come thundering into someone's house drunk, - and he does smell like firewhiskey- but something's off. He knows it because, when his friend answers, he uses the same laughter James heard when his uncle died and when he broke Avery's teeth back in third year. It's the type of laugh that doesn't sound like a laugh at all.

"Of course I've been drinking; we were having a part-ay." and with that he throws himself down on the couch, fidgeting with his hands, but faking with his face.

"Look, man, do you want to take a shower? Clothes or something?"

"Can I-" he begins, and then raising both palms up in the universal sign of confusion, he chuckles. "I don't want to drown myself in the shower."

"Well, I wouldn't want to hide your body either, so we might as well wait it out." James says plopping down by his side.

Maybe he is really confused, or really drunk, or even both because he understands it the wrong way and stands up swiftly. Sirus can do all kind of normal things when he's pissed, what's amazing because James is always passing out and falling off chairs.

"Oh man, I'm fucking destroying your couch...I-" - he scratches his head. "I can just go... really, because I don't want to fuck it up with your parents too, that'd be just too bloody _perfect_-"

"No, no! Sit down. My mother can fix the couch in five seconds, all right?" James exclaims a little bit more quickly than he means to, but it works all the same.

His father took him to watch plays in the city when he was a kid. Everything is easy on the stage, and people never seem to get uncomfortable or pee. Sirius needs to watch them and learn to say exactly what he means, instead of stumbling around it; but then he remembers Sirius is a Black and he probably doesn't know a thing about plays.

James never thinks of Sirius as a Black much, but now, looking at him, he can't remember anytime he has ever looked more like one of them. He's rat-arsed and wet as hell, but by the way he sits on the couch you would never even notice that. It's always as if he is on a throne, or posing. His long legs looking graceful no matter if he is sitting like only boys do when they get comfortable, occupying tons of space and making Lily click her tongue, or if they are stretched in front of him. He looks even more regal now because he's wearing black and gray formal robes. Not formal like the ones James owns, but the type his mother bought him only once, and he complained so much about its itchiness she had given up on forcing him to wear it. With large laces poking his neck and oval silver buttons that probably cost the same as the couch they are sitting on.

Sirius doesn't seem to mind the itching and maybe that's why girls are always chasing after him at Hogwarts. Because he can look just as cool dripping wet and pissed as when he's playing Quidditch in his bright red uniform.

"Your mother is working?"

He asks it suddenly and harshly.

"Yeah."

"Is it about the Order?"

"Sure."

Sirius looks at him, a crazy smile. His voice as bitter as Floo Powder on the tongue. "I knew it."

"Knew what?"

He presses a hand to his forehead. His words slur together messily.

"She wanted to talk to me- and it's bullshit!...it's crap, because Bella never talks to me unless to tell me...fucked up stuff. I bloody hate her. She was being all herself, and annoying, so I told her to fuck off, because I was fed up... and she did, you know? She left..said that I could give her a hand if I wanted to make the family proud for once in my life. They... they all left... and I knew they were going to do some major shit...she was too fucking excited."

So that's how he discovers that Bellatrix, Sirius' cousin, is the one burning down muggle houses today or something just as fun, forcing his mother to stay up late fixing it. James tries not to show what he's thinking and be Remus, with his impassible façade. "Is that why you left?"

"No!" he regains his composure and raises his voice a considerable amount. "I left because they are the worst people ever. My mother - she heard me talking to Bella and she went _ballistic_...such a cunt...she's all about screaming bloody murder because she's the goddamn devil, Prongs, I swear it...she was talking about honors, can you imagine?" He guffaws and it's filled with rage, years of abandonment and things only kids like Sirius and Bellatrix know about. "And all I could think about was how Bella was...I don't even know, but she's standing there telling me about bloody honor and, man, d'you know what she told me?"

"What?" James swallows.

"The little prick wants to join it and be like big Bells...her bloody _lap dog_ Prongs! And he's thirteen, but he's such a moron- he.."

Sirius is never at a loss of words, but now James watches his mouth open indignantly and then close back again more than once. He uses this time to realize, now that his eyes are getting used to darkness, how Sirius's skin is red and sore near his Adam's apple.

He regrets being so hard on his friend when he ate all his Hogsmead candy stash last month.

"We don't talk a lot." Sirius starts again. Insecurity making it crystal clear he is already living in a made-up future where James is going to judge him for being a Black. What's ridiculous, because James only ever calls him Padfoot. "So I couldn't go and ask him about it- but I saw it anyway, in his room. There was like...stuff he cut out from the Daily Prophet- that _sick fuck_! It was all over his bed...killings and muggle baiting shit...like a sodding _shrine_!" His teeth are gritted and his breath picks up. "He's just as screwed up as the rest of them...and I thought- Merlin, I'm so stupid, because I fucking thought he was just a bit-"

And then, in a sudden movement, like a spasm, he kicks the center table. The cup filled with tea James had put on top of it goes flying as the table is lifted five feet up in the air before falling back with a thud. Sirius's head hits the couch and his tone of voice changes from fire to water. "Fuck, fuck, I didn't want to-I'm so sorry Prongs! I-"

James always wondered what he would do when Sirius said it for the first time. His friend has his own special ways of apologizing, way less dangerous than words. Somewhere along the way James knew that if Sirius let an "I'm sorry" slip, all the Marauders would forget what the fight was all about and make fun of him until the sun came up. No one would be angry, but celebrate and laugh and dance. But now he is saying he is sorry. The first time he is saying it in his whole life and he is saying it because he broke a lousy teacup. James almost wants to laugh; in a morbid way; because it is ridiculous that his best friend is apologizing over that when he didn't say he was sorry after almost killing Remus, James and Snivellus. It is so ridiculous he wants to throw up and hug Sirius and punch him all at once.

"Do you think I care about a cup? Mom hates those anyway."

"I'm wetting your couch and wrecking your things, this is really-" James elbows him back into the couch before he can even really move. Sirius is the expert on broken things, but James can deal with a teacup; so he grins and mocks lightly.

"Are you mad? The world is ending and you want to go outside, man?"

"I am not mad!" he says that pretty loudly before flinching. James half expects his father to come down and ask what the hell is going on, while the other half sort of thinks Sirius will take enough deep breaths and apologize again, only none of this happens. "I don't need anybody else telling me what a bloody disgrace I am - and _sod off_!" He shrugs James's hand away from his shoulder violently, inhaling sharply. His face is uncharacteristically filled with billions and billions of things boys never show.

"Fuck! I don't want to go back because then I'll end up like them and go fucking insane about everything like my grandfather, and Bella and my mother...Every single one of them!...my parents are sodding _cousins_! My grandfather was _nuts_, they had to lock him away...and he tried to get me drunk once and tell me about how he found my parents fucking on the back yard, and I was _seven,_ man! I don't want to be twisted like that, I don't! But Merlin I swear I am...I hate them so bloody much and...I could bloody murder them, like a sodding Death Eater...kill for real...and torture...and I wouldn't feel bad about it _at all_...I fucking swear I wish I would, but I know I wouldn't because she's such a cunt!"

And Sirius is shaking from hatred, anger and just plain desperation. James can see it, and he can feel it too because their legs and shoulders are touching all over and there is this wild energy roaming. Never in his life had he felt so bad. Never in his life had he felt so terribly and utterly sad. He hasn't ever thought he'd see Sirius like this. Sirius is a rock and he is always standing tall, even if everybody is down, because nothing seems to get to him. And now it does. He hasn't ever thought before about unfairness and how the ones who create you can also screw you up for life badly, and easily. But now he can see it clearly and it's sickening.

The thing about running away is that everyone talks about it. You see it in plays and books too, and sometimes you do it when you are a kid; but throughout all his life he had only met one person who had actually ran away. Andromeda Black. He wants to believe it is a horrible coincidence that they both have lived together, but he knows better. People are supposed to run away when they are 8 with a sack on their back, and then go back home an hour later because they ran out of food. And not when they 16 and should be worrying about sex and homework. It is a mistake in existence that anyone in Sirius's family was allowed to breed and make the myth of running away a real thing. Presenting itself in front of him in the form of the last person he would ever want to be in a situation like this, or any kind of bad situation at all. His eyes are bloodshot and his strong jaw moves repeatedly, but he doesn't cry. James wonders if he feels the burning in his throat, or if crying is just one of the many things nobody ever bothered teaching him.

"You're not making any sense, you're not like Bellatrix, you are a proud Gryffindor, mate! You got nothing to do with those people, you know that!"

"I was like her...I was this fucking _horrible_ kid...so bloody brainwashed- you have no idea...I was completely twisted and fucked up about everything you can imagine."

James has always known Sirius has a screwed up past from the things he would point out eventually. He would say it so casually it didn't even sound like a big deal. But it was a big deal and James always thought it was better not to push it because it was something his friend might be better off forgetting about.

But perhaps leaving a family is somewhat like leaving your girlfriend, and you have to talk about it and _mourn_ it before you can let go.

"C'mon man, are you really going to blame yourself over their shit? Just stop talking, you are plastered-"

"I almost killed my brother once." he says, almost as if he can't stop himself and has to get it all out before he realizes how crazy it is that his two worlds collided; and that he is sitting on James's couch wearing Black robes. "He was annoying me, so I snapped and told him to go and mess with my father's things. It was just one of those creepy things around my house, you know? But it dig into his wrist...it looked spoiled as hell, like meat gone bad, all bloody and shit...Man, my father was so fucking mad. I thought he had lost it."

His hands tremble so he stuffs them in his pockets, but James can still feel his whole body shaking with weak chortles against his right side. Maybe a laughing Sirius is the equivalent of a crying person.

"Shut up, ok? Shut the fuck up! The things they did to you- they aren't your fault, man. Are you even for real? They were trying to fuck you up, and they failed so stop saying this shit!" And he can see it in the gray eyes. Guilt. Unbelievable, he thinks. But what does he know about it? Sirius and James are polar opposites and while he knows so much about comforting friends and words, Sirius knows about being offered firewhiskey when you are seven and being locked in cupboards for hours and _hours_.

"I know that, they are assholes." Sirius says. "_Assholes_."

He is sitting on his living room saying a bunch nonsense. And he is_ laughing_. It's all completely backwards.

"And you didn't kill anyone; your father shouldn't leave deadly stuff lying around."

"I knew it was Dark Arts shit Prongs, so don't even go there." his eyes are a bit harder now, but he still looks pretty miserable and drunk.

"And how old were you, huh? Seven? _Five_?"

"I was nine!" he spats murderously, not laughing anymore.

"Nine? Oh, I'm sorry then, that's practically like being a bloody adult, isn't it?" James's voice is filled with disbelief and he adds. "You were a kid, for Merlin's Sake, that happened years ago."

And Sirius seems to give up. It may be because his vision has blurred more, or the feeling in your gut only reminiscing bad things can give you. His head falls on his hands, and for a moment James thinks he has finally broken down. And it's scarier than James thought it would be, because Sirius is tough and even his skin is rougher and thicker. He isn't sure about being happy or disappointed when his friend raises his dry eyes a bit so that he is facing James and asks in a steady voice. "I need to ask you something...I'll leave in the morning and find Andromeda, it's not permanent. I've been thinking...Maybe some place on the Leaky Cauldron? But I...right now - just really..." he begins and his hands slide down his face, now covering only his mouth; eyebrows disappear in his hair comically, but tragically too. "I have nowhere to go, I guess." And then he chuckles again, as if trying to lighten the mood.

It takes some seconds for James to understand what Sirius means. "You're never going back." It doesn't sound like a question because asking it would be ridiculous. Even more ridiculous than everything that has happened so far. Sirius left tons of times, but he would always just mope a bit and then shrug it off, like it was no big deal.

"I-" he hesitates. "I was disowned." And then he adds -words coming out in a blur of alcohol. "So yeah, I'm broke, but I'll just find a job or something. I'd just have to say I'm 17, and I look older anyway, so-"

"Bullshit." James cuts him off. "Do you think I'd just kick you out? You can stay here."

"Let's see what your parents say before you go inviting me in. They have their own mess to deal with already."

As if on cue, the front door opens, and someone turns the light inside the living room on, blinding their eyes painfully.

"Oh James, shouldn't you be sle-"

His mother stops in mid-sentence, looking at both boys sitting on the couch. Sirius is still wearing drenched pompous robes. Her eyes don't blink as they take everything in and James holds his breath, unsure that if she says the wrong thing, Sirius - who has just calmed down - won't lose it again.

To his surprise she says. "Sirius, you're going to get a cold wearing such wet clothes! I'll go and fetch some dry ones for you." And then she wanders up the stairs with quiet steps, without even commenting on how they reek of firewhiskey.

When she is back there is a towel and clothes on her hand. She places them on the table before asking. "Do you want some tea?"

And even though his friend has just gone through hell and back, it is the first time he looks like his world has been turned upside down. "No, Mrs. Potter, I'm fine, really."

"Fine, hmpft." she mutters so low they barely hear and then she approaches the couch; her mouth in a firm line. "Let me look at that."

"Thanks, but really- uh, is nothing." Sirius looks mortified as she kneels in front of him trying to force his chin upwards to examine the now purple bruise forming around his throat area. James tries not to look. Not to save Sirius's from being embarrassed, but because now that the bruise is darkening, you can clearly see the shape of a hand and the image makes him feel a bit angrier than he wants to. He needs to be in control of himself now that his friend isn't.

He doesn't know who hurt him, but he is angry at all of them. For a moment he is sure he hates the Black family with much more intensity than anyone else.

"Does it hurt?" his mother asks, her fingers grazing the area that now seems slightly healthier.

"It doesn't. Thank you." he tries to smile, but his voice is cracking oddly.

"Go take a shower." she demands. And Sirius, who never obeys anyone, gets up quickly and grabs the towel with a nod, disappearing into the hallway.

His mother, as he expects doesn't fret over the signs of Sirius's arrival. She looks from the wet couch, to the broken teacup and the askew table before asking. "When did he arrive? You should have woken up your father."

"I-" James wants to explain how he could never have called his father down when his best mate looked so miserable. It would be a betrayal.

"Was he all right when he arrived?" she asks eyeing him like a falcon. "Because if they did anything to him..."

She doesn't finish the sentence, but James is so proud of having her for a mother he can't care less. "He's all right."

He thinks all right is quite a stretch. He looks awful, and if James would have been truthful he would have said he probably felt awful too. But then, Sirius is nothing but resilient.

They spend a long time in silence as his mother cleans the couch and fixes the teacup, sighing from time to time, but not asking for details. Sirius is drunk and James has already been drunk enough times to know you speak way more than you want to. There's an unspoken agreement you shouldn't tell anyone about what friends say when they're drunk. And maybe, yeah, he can admit Sirius's things are harsher and a tad bit more worrisome than the usual, but it isn't anybody's business. Hell, it's not even supposed to be _Sirius'_s business anymore, he thinks; and a feeling of relief climbs his spine.

He is never going back.

And then, just as the feeling sets, he blinks at his mother, well aware she has no idea about that.

"He ran away, mom." James blurts out before he can think about sugarcoating it. "And he was disowned, so he can't go back."

He isn't sure what he is expecting. His mother is one of those women you wouldn't want to cross, and her eyes are penetrating and scary when she wants to. He loves her, he really does, but nobody wants to feel the wrath of Mrs. Potter, it's a survival instinct. He has hardly ever seen his mother showing any emotion, so that's probably why his eyes widen and he is surprised to realize her eyes are filled with sadness when they finally turn to him.

"I will talk to your father in the morning." she is thinking of the bruise and pain and James is thinking of itchy robes and all the things which empty laughs are made out of, but they both reach the same conclusion. "And tell him not to worry about anything. I'll go to court if I have to, but he's staying with us."

He thinks it's pushing it, because the Black family doesn't beat Sirius around like a rag doll, - he's a big boy after all - or would go looking for him. They don't seem care about where their spawns are; being it murdering innocent people, cutting sick stories off the news or trying not to break down inside bathrooms of small white-fenced houses.

"Oh, Sirius!" his mother exclaims suddenly, blinking many times and taking the proper robes he is holding from his hands. He is now wearing some of James's baggiest pajamas, and still they look slightly small on him, who has long legs and awfully broad shoulders. It's hard to say if he is a bit more sober now or if he continues just as rat-arsed as before.

And he can't exactly ask that in front of his mother.

Sirius sits by his side again and smiles watching the way his mother is folding his clothes, sighing all the way. How can anyone even_ know _how to fold robes that have so many awkward things hanging all around like goddamn doxies? Maybe years of experience and age pay off, he thinks. She is old, with gray hair, wrinkles and the wise look which is hard to mimic, even for Sirius. She's getting more fragile and_ smaller_, and she's also starting to forget how to make pineapple cakes. And James worries because both of his parents are old and he is scared as hell of what he will do without them. He's terrified of waking up without one of them and then-

And then he realizes, as if someone has just clubbed him on the head, what this is all about. And how life is such a subtle evil bitch you don't even notice when it is grabbing your shoulders and shaking you rotten. Sirius is looking at him and suddenly he does look older, but it isn't because of his shoulder blades anymore, and it isn't gray hair either. It has something to do with eleven years of emotional numbness and with learning things you don't learn at school. And maybe it's something to do with small things, like kicking tables. It's a bit about friendship too, and listening to everything Sirius has to say and digest and break and struggle and yell and tell and think and _feel_.

Suddenly, they have grown up.

And he can almost see it now. Sirius is twenty and his hair is shorter because they left Hogwarts and they need a job, so he needs to make a good impression. He probably has a motorbike, because he always _wanted _one. Then wrinkles start to break through the skin of his aristocratic face, so that he looks sort of like his father when he smiles because there is all these stuff around his mouth that wasn't there before.

Sometimes they talk about the past, and the_ Marauders_. Lily laughs while they tell her their wonderful adventures and even now, that she is way older, her laughter is the same. Sirius says it's annoying, but James thinks it's _perfect _and that if he could he would _record_ it and listen to it over and over again _every day_. He likes her a whole lot, so they'll probably get married. And they will have kids and take them to Quidditch matches, even though Sirius doesn't like watching Quidditch that much.

And Sirius's black hair is turning a shade of gray while his eyes grow even milkier. They are already crazy light, so he hopes his friend won't look like a blind man or something. The slight and muscular body every girl in Hogwarts wants will get droopy and, maybe not ugly, but marked and _wizened_ by time, like his mum's. And the same thing will happen to Pete, Remus and _Her_. He can see all of them together, somewhere on the country side, old as hell, and with kids that are way older than they are right now. They just like to sit around eating barbecue or something, without having to worry about school and girls like they have now. They are grown ups. They probably even call themselves adults.

Sirius grins and blows a breath of pure alcohol right on his face. James struggles not to laugh so his mother won't notice the fact that Sirius is sloshed out of his mind. If he had been James, he'd probably be passed out on the bathroom floor.

But he sort of knows his mother knows, because she has been 16 one day too. Growing up is a bitchy road, with many turns and crossings, unexpected stop signs and cliffs. They are only through a small bit, and there is so much more to be learned. Like the fact you are not supposed to wear short pajama bottoms when you sitting by a dumbass who is always trying to be funny, because he can pull one of your leg hair and that hurts like the devil.

It's probably a terribly long road too. And it will take lots of kicking and yelling until they learn how to be as wrinkled and wise-eyed as his mother.

But they will make it; he thinks smirking and poking Sirius in the ribs. Yeah, they will make it all right.

* * *

_First story, so tell me what you think, please?_


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